


As we come closer together

by hakubo



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 16:30:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5382221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hakubo/pseuds/hakubo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Just. Let me. Okay?” And John doesn't have the vaguest idea if Rodney actually understands what he's saying or is just humoring him, but it doesn't really matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As we come closer together

**Author's Note:**

  * For [popkin16](https://archiveofourown.org/users/popkin16/gifts).



> For my hc_bingo card "washing/bathing someone"
> 
> Title from Depeche Mode: Here is the house

When John enters Rodney's quarters he's greeted by a trail of dirty clothes on the floor and the sound of the shower. The door closes behind him and he hesitates, wonders if he'll be welcome, but Rodney didn't say anything besides his usual litany of complaints and curses, just took off when Beckett released them after their post mission check up. 

John slowly makes his way to the bathroom, considers picking up Rodney's clothes off the floor, but then he's standing at the bathroom door and promptly forgets about it. The bathroom is filled with steam from the shower but Rodney's standing naked in front of the mirror, staring at himself, poking at the bruises and scratching at the dirt that managed to get under all the clothes and gear. He avoids his wrists, bright red, rubbed raw by the rope and John can feel his own hands ball into fists, wishes he could have blown up that entire planet instead of just shooting a few people.

“Are you going to stand there and watch or are you going to join me?” Rodney is staring at him in the mirror, war probably watching the entire time John was looking at him and John would be freaked out by someone seeing whatever Rodney might have seen on his face, but it's Rodney, looking at John with a mixture of apprehension and fond amusement. Here's where John should crack a joke, saunter over and kiss Rodney senseless, trying to make them both forget the past two days but he can't. He can still see the blood and hear the pain in Rodney's voice as they beat him and tried to ma them fix whatever broken Ancient shit they had laying around on that damn planet and John has to close his eyes and get his breathing under control. He keeps his eyes open as he starts on his clothes, makes it fast and lets everything drop to the floor.

When he finally opens his eyes Rodney's gotten closer and John can't red his expression at all, a rarity that makes him uncomfortable, but then it clears and he's Rodney again, exasperated and impatient and John can't help smiling at him.

“Come on, get in the shower. Chop, chop,” Rodney snaps and leads the way. It's hot and filled with steam and at any other time that would mean sex, but now they just stand under the spray of the awesome Ancient shower.

Rodney leans against the wall, braced on his forearms, his back to John and John stares at the width of his shoulders, the soft layer of ft at his waist and the generous curve of his ass. He moves without a thought, smooths a hand from Rodney's neck, follows the curve of his spine, wraps sn arm around Rodney's waist and presses in as close as he can get without hurting Rodney.

They stay like that, breathing the steam, until Rodney starts getting impatient so John grabs Rodney's sponge and the ridiculously expensive hypoallergenic shampoo that Rodney brought in bulk from Earth and slowly starts washing him. He's slow and thorough about it, makes sure he doesn't press on the bruises, kneels so he can reach the backs of his knees, his feet. When he's done John urges Rodney to turn so he can wash his front. He stays kneeling and when Rodney leans back against the warm tiles John follows, presses his forehead to Rodneys belly and tries to get himself under control. Rodney buries a hand in John's hair and scratches at his scalp the way he knows John likes.

"John?” Rodney sounds worried even if his hand doesn't stop moving in John's hair and John kisses him on the swell of his stomach, breathes in the smell of his shampoo.

“Just. Let me. Okay?” And John doesn't have the vaguest idea if Rodney actually understands what he's saying or is just humoring him, but it doesn't really matter.

“Carry on,” he says magnanimously and John does, starts with his feet, makes sure to be thorough and not too gentle because he doesn't want to end up in the infirmary with a concussion because Rodney kicked him in the head while giggling like a madman.

Rodney's breathing speeds up when John gets a hand between his thighs and he starts getting hard, but he's tired and stressed out so he doesn't get very far. John is just as thorough with his cock as with the rest of him and lays a soft kiss on the head that makes Rodney snort and mutter “Ridiculous.” John smiles and groans his way back to his feet, Rodney pulling him up gently.

Rodney smiles at him, a sweet one that John has to kiss and they lose themselves in it, the easy, familiar slide of lips that soothes him, eases the tension he felt since stepping through the gate and being ambushed by the natives. He makes sure he finishes washing Rodney, does his hair with minimum (for Rodney) bitching and threats, then makes quick work of washing himself under Rodney's watchful eye.

They fall into bed still mostly wet and Rodney puts him where he wants him, which is mostly under him, pretending to be a pillow, and is out like a light. John stays awake for a while longer, listens to the sound of Rodney's breathing, ignores the way Rodney's drooling on his chest. He drinks in the warmth of his body and breathes.


End file.
